


Talking to Strangers

by cnoocy



Category: Master and Margarita - Mikhail Bulgakov
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnoocy/pseuds/cnoocy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master and Margarita have a few friends over for an evening of discussion. But have two of their guests met before?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking to Strangers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neshnyt_Jackalsson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neshnyt_Jackalsson/gifts).



The little house by the bridge was always a pleasant place, but it was not always pleasant in the same way. On many evenings, the two inhabitants could be found reading and writing by lamplight, until the man writing in the overstuffed chair nodded off in his greasy skullcap and the woman reading on the sofa got up and tucked a blanket around him, then returned to the sofa to read, facing in the man's direction so that she could keep one eye on the sleeper.

But this, dear reader, was not one of these evenings! The front door was lit up with electric lights, and candles blazed throughout the parlor, with drinks and snacks set out on the tables. For Margarita and the Master were having guests, two friends they had met since moving to the house, and one they had met immediately before. The first guest arrived in a small lacquered carriage, disembarking elegantly before greeting her hostess with warm formality.

"Margarita Nikolayevna. How do you do, my friend?" she said, grasping Margarita's hands in her own.

"Lady Murasaki. I am well, thank you!" Margarita replied as they entered the house and went to the kitchen to pour tea. "The snow has been beautiful this year, and our house is warm and bright. And you, dear lady, how do you fare?"

"I am well. Are there to be many guests tonight?"

"Do not worry, we would not invite you to a crowd of strangers! We have just two beside yourself, people that you will like. Look, the Master goes to admit the second now."

And indeed the next guest had just crossed from the bridge to the door, where he was welcomed by the Master.

"Petronius, be well!" the Master said to his friend.

"And you be well also," replied Petronius as the two clasped wrists.

As the two men entered, Margarita made the introductions. "Lady Murasaki, this is Gaius Petronius Arbiter, a novelist and a member of the Imperial court of Nero in first-century Rome. Petronius, this is Lady Murasaki Shikibu, a novelist and a member of the Imperial court of Shõshi in eleventh-century Japan." Petronius laughed and Murasaki smiled as the two novelist-courtiers attempted to silently determine whether they should bow, shake hands, or greet in some other fashion. They settled on a modest bow to each other and the entire party went in to settle in the parlor.

"And the third guest? Where and who is he?" asked Murasaki.

"He comes as he wills, and needs no introduction in this country," said the Master, and he was interrupted by the sudden appearance in the parlor of the guest himself, in the persona of Professor Woland, exhibitor of black magic, world traveler, and ruler of all the infernal realms.

"Lady Murasaki and Petronius Arbiter, how pleasant to make your direct acquaintance!" cried the professor. "Please, I beg of you both, think of me as just another former courtier who occasionally dabbles in the literary arts. I have wanted to meet you both, so I invited myself to this party. Your hosts were kind enough to oblige, so here I am."

"How shall we refer to you, then?" Petronius asked. "I suspect that your many names would get tiring to say every time we address you."

"And even more tiring to hear, I assure you! 'Professor Woland' or 'Professor' will be perfectly adequate, thank you."

"It is pleasant to meet you, then, Professor." Lady Murasaki gave him a slight bow. The professor nodded, and the party found their seats.

* * *

"Well, of course we can reread my novel now, anytime we wish," the Master was saying, "as I have said to Margarita, manuscripts don't burn. It is much more relaxing not to worry about government censors and political ramifications."

"Is it frustrating, Petronius," asked Lady Murasaki, turning to him, "that your novel survives only in fragments? It's become so difficult to follow, with the scenes suddenly ending and the narrative starting somewhere else. Surely that can't be ideal for you."

"As I may speak true, Lady Murasaki, I suspect that the damage has improved it." Petronius chuckled as she looked slightly taken aback. "In the original version, the reader follows Encolpius and his company from adventure to adventure, which is amusing, but fades from the mind as soon as it is complete. In the fragmentary version, however, the reader is constantly trying to determine how each episode connects to the last, how the characters know each other, how the chapters even fit together. The destruction of time has turned my sex farce into a mystery for the ages! But you, Lady Murasaki, are a master at using the lack of words to create interest and mystery. My novel merely provides chaos. Yours, in the blank chapter 'Kumogakure', turns a standard type of death scene into a shock that stops the reader like a stick through a chariot wheel."

"That chapter produced quite a reaction when I released it to the court." Lady Murasaki smiled at the memory. "There were some who thought that I was the cleverest author ever born, but many of the ladies-in-waiting were confused. They were so impatient, always wanting everything to be made clear immediately. I even heard a rumor that one of them asked the Empress to command a real chapter out of me. Fortunately, none of them decided it was worth challenging me directly. Or if they did, they couldn't find me to do so. I suppose that is another benefit of my habitual avoidance of drunken revelry."

"You should have had a hostess like our Margarita Nikolayevna," interjected Woland. "She is one of the finest of the many hostesses, all named Margarita, that the Spring Ball of the Full Moon has ever had."

"All named Margarita, really?" Petronius looked doubtfully at the professor. That's not very difficult when you're visiting my old home, where _margarita_ is a pretty thing you find in an oyster, but that can't be the case in all of the places you've traveled. What do you do when spring comes around and no Margaritas are available?"

"In those cases, dear Petronius, we make do with the best substitute we can find. Something always comes up." Woland poured more vodka in his glass and took a sip, smiling enigmatically as the conversation moved on.

* * *

"So, Master," asked Petronius, biting a pickled mushroom in half, "why did you choose Pontius Pilate as your protagonist? He was no intellectual, no adventurer, certainly no winner of the lottery. What pulled you to this odd figure?"

The Master cleared his throat and thought for a minute. "I think it was his unwitting and unwilling place in history. At that time, my country was being run by people who saw history as an unstoppable force for progress, and I wanted to examine someone who was neither riding that force like a steed nor crushed under its hooves, but was still permanently altered by its passage through his life."

"I met him once, actually. I was in my twenties, and we happened to be soaking at the Baths of Agrippa one morning. He had just gotten up and I was recovering from my night. He was this old soldier, with scars on his arms. I was discussing immortality with my companion, and he interrupted us to introduce himself and argue that immortality was no thing to desire. He was polite enough, in a brusque way, but he clearly saw our youthful desire for glory as the rashest folly. After we had left, my companion, who ran in more military circles than I, said that he was rumored to have been involved in Caligula's assassination, but to have escaped execution on grounds of simple obscurity. I don't think anyone ever knew why he was really so displeased by the idea of eternal fame."

"Well, he fared better than Caligula did," laughed Woland, "or your Nero, for that matter!"

"Good. They were both worse than small children, destroying things and people just to see the noises they made as they fell down." The face of Petronius was briefly serious as he contemplated the two emperors, then he smiled again. "But let us not think too much on upsetting matters."

Sitting next to the Master, Margarita mouthed "thank you" at the Roman.

"I had the fortune of living mostly under the reign of a single Emperor," said Lady Murasaki. "Which is not to imply that he was always a good or strong ruler. But in most cases, people in my court did not suddenly disappear or die unless someone was getting some advantage out of it." 

"Is that the case, truly, Lady Murasaki?" asked Woland with a teasing smile. "In my experience, there are always cases that cannot be explained."

"I believe, Professor, that all of the events in a story are bound to make sense if the reader is sufficiently insightful and patient."

Margarita looked between her two sparring guests with some consternation. There was obviously some hidden conflict between them, but she could not determine what it could be possibly be. She wanted to defend her friend, but it was unthinkable to run the risk of offending Woland.

Petronius also looked between the two guests, contentedly spreading more salmon mousse on another slice of brown bread.

"Lady Murasaki, are you implying something?" Woland placed both hands on one knee and leaned toward her. "I was not expecting to meet a judge of my character here by the climbing vines and the stone bridge."

Like a bank of snow, sliding off a tree in spring, Murasaki laughed. The tension fell out of the room, to Margarita's great relief and Petronius's mild disappointment. "The exact words you spoke to me that spring day in the courtyard! I was looking at the water rushing by, and you sat down next to me on a bench, looking rather different than you do today. We had an enjoyable debate about correct behavior, ending with that very sentence about the climbing vines. Then you excused yourself to an urgent appointment, and the next few days were a whirlwind of chaos in the court. So my suspicions are proven: you were indeed responsible for the disappearance of young Lady Shinju and her lover. You did me a great wrong," she said, still smiling, "consigning me to listen to mediocre court poets making puns between her name and _shinjũ_ , meaning 'double suicide', for the entire summer. Could you not have picked some other hostess for your ball?"

"As I said before, tradition demands that the hostess have the name Margarita and since that was not a popular name in Japan at the time, I had to translate it to 'pearl', or in Japanese, 'shinju'. The similarity between _shinju_ and _shinjũ_ is hardly my doing!"

"May I ask what became of her and her lover?" 

"They are still in my service and quite happy together. I will convey your greetings when I next see them, if you like."

"Please do. I am glad she was well served by the affair. She would have enjoyed the court life even less than I did, and her lover was due to be sent to a faraway province. They seemed truly devoted to each other, and would never have met again."

"A toast, then, to Shinju and her lover!" Margarita cried. "And to stories finally completed!"

"I think every writer can drink to that," the Master said, and laughter resounded in the little house like clinking glasses.

**Author's Note:**

> If the Master and Margarita have left this world, shouldn't they have friends that have done the same? Murasaki Shikibu and Gaius Petronius Arbiter are actual historical figures, and it is at least plausible that Petronius and Pilate could have met, given how little we know about the historical Pilate. Lady Shinju is entirely fictional, though the Latin and Japanese meanings of _margarita_ , _shinju_ , and _shinjũ_ are, as far as I know, accurate. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!


End file.
